


what you're dreaming of

by soulgraves



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulgraves/pseuds/soulgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s going to be alone for Christmas, and Blaine’s not going to let that happen. (S4 AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	what you're dreaming of

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [likeinyourfunnylittlebrains](http://likeinyourfunnylittlebrains.tumblr.com/) and tumblr's Blam Secret Santa 2014. Disregards _Glee, Actually_. ♥

It’s Ryder who ends up telling him, though it’s completely by accident.

“It’s worse for Sam, though,” he says, after he’s finished filling Blaine in on his parents decision to spend Christmas Day at his grandmother’s care home. “At least I’ll be with my family.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asks, frowning. Sam’s been pretty pumped about Christmas so far, handing out candy canes to everyone and organizing a Glee Club Secret Santa with a ten dollar limit so they can all participate, but he’s not said anything to Blaine about how he actually intends to spend the holidays.

“Well, that thing with his aunt--”

Which is how Blaine finds out that Sam’s aunt’s been taken into hospital in Tennessee and his parents are going down with the kids to help look after Sam’s cousins. 

“They told me they’d make space,” Sam says later, when Blaine calls him out on it, “but it’s a small house anyway, and Christmas is expensive and stressful enough as it is.”

Blaine bites his lip and resists the urge to hug him. “So you’re spending the holidays with the Hudmels?”

Sam pauses. “Uh-- Well, Carole’s going to visit her sister, I think? And Burt’s going to New York to see…”

“To see Kurt,” Blaine says, nodding, because of course he is. He’d also put money on Sam “forgetting” to tell Carole and Burt about his change of plans; they’re both great people and great parents, and he’s completely positive they’d go all out to include Sam if they knew. Which is why Sam hasn’t told them. 

“It’s not a big deal, dude,” Sam says, rubbing a hand across his neck and not quite meeting his eyes. “I mean, I get to do all the cool stuff, it’s just those couple of days. I’ll probably watch the _Die Hard_ movies and bake gingerbread or whatever.”

“Come to mine,” Blaine says, and doesn’t think about the details, just that he can’t stand to think about Sam alone at Christmas. 

“What?” Sam says, blinking. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Blaine says, and now he thinks about it, it’s a perfect solution. “It’ll help defuse the tension of my parents, Cooper, and I all at one table. My dad won’t try and set me up with a colleague’s daughter in front of company, my mom won’t drink a whole bottle of wine before the first course, and Cooper won’t-- Well, actually, Cooper will still be Cooper, but if that’s the worst that happens then it’ll practically be a Norman Rockwell holiday in the Anderson house.”

“Sounds like fun,” Sam grins, and Blaine’s heart skips a beat.

“Yeah,” he says, because it really, really does.

  
**+**   
  


His parents are unfazed by the addition to the holiday, though his mom asks several pointed questions about what sort of friend Sam is (Blaine’s worried he’s left her with the wrong impression, but he couldn’t stop blushing for a good twenty minutes after she asked if he needed her to pick him up anything from the drug store). Cooper just asks if Sam’s seen the episode of _NCIS_ he was in, and then decides, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll just get him the season on DVD and sign it,” which, judging from the box under the tree, is exactly what he’s giving Blaine this year, too.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Sam whispers when Blaine answers the door on Christmas Eve, and Blaine doesn’t have time to assure him before his mom’s sweeping in, pressing a kiss to each of Sam’s cheeks and telling him how pleased she is to finally meet him, and, “Blaine will take your bag up, won’t you sweetheart?”

“Of course,” Blaine says, trying not to laugh at Sam’s shell-shocked expression. “I figured you’d just crash in with me, like normal--?”

Blaine’s mom shoots him a glance, and Blaine ignores her and hopes he’s not blushing again.

“Great,” Sam says, and then passes Blaine’s mom a small gift that’s definitely been professionally wrapped. Blaine doesn’t hang around to see what it is, feeling guilty that Sam’s spent any money at all on his family, but he hears his mom’s delighted thanks and the sound of her ushering Sam in to see the tree.

When he gets back down, his dad’s asking Sam about the McKinley football team and where in Tennessee he’s originally from and if he’s planning on going to college, and Blaine’s ready to jump in and stop the interrogation before it really gets going, but Sam seems happy enough, answering honestly and politely, and if Blaine didn’t already know how special Sam was, this probably would have sold him. 

Eventually Cooper says, “Leave the poor guy alone, Dad,” and Blaine shoots his brother a grateful smile and doesn’t even care when he makes them all watch his bit-part on _Law and Order_ ten times so he can explain to them exactly what his _process_ was.

“Your dad’s kinda scary, dude,” Sam says later, when they’re hiding out in Blaine’s room in their pajamas, drinking cocoa.

“Sorry,” Blaine says, and tries not to think about the way Sam’s thigh is pressed against his. “He can be a little much.”

“Nah,” Sam says, cream caught in the corner of his mouth, “it’s cool. I don’t mind. I mean, I think it’s a little weird that your mom slipped me a strip of condoms earlier and told me to be safe, but--”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Blaine says, spitting cocoa over his comforter. “She _didn’t_.”

Sam reaches for his jeans and pulls them out. “She totally did. How much sex does she think we’re going to be having in the next twenty-four hours?”

Blaine’s face feels like it’s on fire and he’s really hoping the floor will just open up and swallow him whole, _right now, please_ , but Sam’s laughing, clutching his stomach and it’s _mortifying_ but, yeah, it’s also hilarious.

“Most people would be more freaked out by this,” he says when they’ve both eventually calmed down.

Sam just shrugs and rearranges his pillow. “I guess I’m not most people.”

“You’re really not,” Blaine says, and it sound far too earnest even to his own ears.

  
**+**   
  


In the morning they all eat breakfast together, the Anderson’s fighting over the coffee pot as Sam laughs and says he sees where Blaine gets it from, and then Blaine and Cooper open gifts that amount to a truly disgusting sum and thank their parents repeatedly. Blaine feels uncomfortable about it, because _Sam_ , but the boy in question is too busy flitting between amused and stunned as Blaine’s mom hands him his own pile of gifts. Blaine’s expecting sweaters and gift cards, but the first gift Sam opens is a gorgeous mahogany box filled with tubes of paint in every color of the rainbow and then some.

Sam blinks at it for a good minute before he looks up, his eyes wide. “Mrs Anderson--” he starts, and Blaine’s mom waves it off.

“Blaine tells me you’re an artist,” she says, before Sam can protest. “The boy in the store recommended these. I hope they’re alright.”

“They’re _amazing_ ,” Sam says, and Blaine wants to hug him. 

It doesn’t stop there; everything Blaine’s parents have bought Sam show at least a basic understanding of who he is, and it makes Blaine want to cry. He knows he talks about Sam too much - he _knows_ he does - but he didn’t think they were actually listening. That they _ever_ actually listened…

“I don’t--” Sam says later, when Blaine finds him hiding out in the study. “They shouldn’t have.”

“They wanted to,” Blaine says. He’d seen the hopeful way his mother had looked at Sam as he’d worked his way through each gift with care. “But I didn’t know they were going to, I swear.”

Sam nods, his smile shaky, and when he reaches out, Blaine slips into his arms easily.

  
**+**   
  


They Skype Sam’s parents after dinner, so full they can barely sit upright on the couch, his laptop balanced precariously between them. Blaine had suggested Sam call them alone, but Sam insists, practically dragging Blaine into the living room by his sleeve; the Evans’ don’t seem fazed by the extra face, wishing Blaine a very merry Christmas and asking after his mom and dad and Cooper like they’ve actually met. Blaine answers politely, and then laughs when Sam butts in to wax poetic about all the presents he got and how big the turkey was and how Blaine hogs the covers, which--

“Hey!” Blaine says, and it would be seriously great if everyone could stop trying to make him blush.

“You _do_ ,” Sam says, nudging their shoulders together, and _seriously_ , Blaine is so far gone on this boy, it’s stupid.

Dwight and Mary just laugh, like their son sharing a bed with another boy is an every day occurrence, and call Stevie and Stacey in to talk to their brother; Sam’s eyes light up as his siblings start telling him all about their day and what Santa brought them, and Blaine’s flooded with affection for the lot of them, not even realizing he’s leaning in closer until Sam wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry they’re so far away,” he says, after Sam’s said his goodbyes, and Sam shrugs.

“It’s okay,” he says, looking thoughtful but not sad. “I made that choice when I moved back without them. I mean, sometimes it sucks, but I also get to be _here_ , so--”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever given up so much to go to McKinley,” Blaine jokes, and Sam shakes his head and squeezes Blaine to his side.

“I wasn’t talking about school, dude,” he says, smiling, and Blaine closes his eyes and tries not to let his hopes soar too high.

  
**+**   
  


“So, wishing you’d stuck with _Die Hard_ and gingerbread?” Blaine asks, when his parents have retired to watch old Christmas movies in bed, and Cooper’s left to hook up with a girl who apparently has a famous producer for an uncle.

“Are you kidding?” Sam says, drying the wet dish Blaine hands him and placing it back in the cupboard. “I’ve had an awesome time. Has it been weird having me here?”

Blaine snorts before he can stop himself. “This is the best Christmas we’ve had in _years_ ,” he says, and it’s the absolute truth. “Not a single argument and no one ended up crying in the downstairs bathroom. You should come stay _every_ year.” 

It’s meant to be a joke - a throwaway comment to emphasize his point - but even as he says it he knows that he wants it. He wants Sam to be here every year, or for Blaine to be with him in Kentucky or Tennessee or wherever the Evans’ end up; he wants to wake up next to him and eat too much and sing along to all the songs they should be sick of come Christmas day.

He knows he falls too easily, that he lets his heart take over before his mind has time to catch up, but with Sam it’s different; whatever this is has been creeping up on him so slowly that it’s less like being hit by a bolt of lightening and more like finally finding the answer to an equation he’s been writing for years.

“What?” Sam says, and Blaine realizes he’s been staring.

“Nothing,” he says, though it’s far from it. “Come on, let’s go watch bad TV and eat the rest of Cooper’s chocolate.”

He turns to leave, stopping short when Sam tugs on his shirt.

“Hey,” Sam says, “not so fast.” His eyes dart upwards, and Blaine follows suit.

He’s not sure whether he wants to kill his mother or thank her until he can’t breathe, because they’ve _never_ had mistletoe in the house before - Cooper ate the berries at a relatives when he was a kid and since then it’s been deemed too dangerous, even as they got older, but _now_ \--

“You don’t have to,” Blaine stutters, and Sam frowns.

“I know,” he says, and kisses him anyway.

It’s just a gentle press of lips, chaste and simple, and Blaine doesn’t ever want it to end.

Eventually Sam pulls away, looking down at him with an unreadable expression, and Blaine hopes that his heart isn’t written across his face the way he knows it undoubtedly is.

They stay standing there for a while longer, and Blaine waits for Sam to make the next move, to laugh and race him to the best seat in the living room or to--

Or to kiss him again like he really means it.

He knows which option he wants and he knows which option he expects.

Instead, Sam brushes a strand of Blaine’s hair back into place and smiles at him like he’s something special, and somehow it’s the perfect end to the moment.

“Merry Christmas, Blaine,” he says, smile not dimming for an instant, “and thank you.”

Blaine smiles back, feeling like the whole world can hear what he really means when he says, “Merry Christmas, Sam.”

It sounds a lot like three other words entirely.

He thinks he’s maybe okay with that.


End file.
